


MILFs in Chief

by loosenoodlepoodledoodle



Series: The Dustbin of History [1]
Category: Trump Family Values
Genre: Absurd, Daddy Issues, F/F, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian Sex, MILFs, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:54:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24466801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosenoodlepoodledoodle/pseuds/loosenoodlepoodledoodle
Summary: Ivanka's got daddy issues. Maybe Melania will be willing to help her out with them...
Relationships: Ivanka Trump/Melania Trump
Series: The Dustbin of History [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007061
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	MILFs in Chief

**Author's Note:**

> This may be the dirtiest thing I've ever written, but I'm not sure...

Night fell, and Ivanka Trump found herself alone in her gilded cage, with naught to do but think. I know, who’d’ve thought she’d get into _that_ habit, right? But try as she might, there was no way to distract herself in the wake of COVID-19. There just weren’t enough new shows on television to keep her attention anymore. With the brat weaned, and being raised by the help, and The Boy Wonder off on his own destroying the country at the behest of Daddy, Ivanka was feeling a little lonely.

_(She remembered the tweet.)_

As she relaxed on her satin chaise lounge, surrounded by furnishings of _“dictator kitsch,”_ she thought about Daddy, and how much she loved him, especially his money, and why didn’t he ever really show her _his_ love, the way she’d always wanted—

She clamped down on that thought, a rare instance of self-control. Normally she could only find the wherewithal to do so when Daddy’s money was at stake, specifically the possibility of him cutting her off from it. Now, after all this time, was she finally maturing? She might actually have an adult thought one of these days. I don’t mean _that_ kind of “adult” thought. She had _those_ all the time. In fact, she was going to have a brand-new one that very moment.

_I wonder what Melania’s doing. She must be by herself, too. Especially with that kid sent off to boarding school._ Try as she might (she didn’t really), Ivanka could never think of Barron as really a part of the family, in the same way Tiffany wasn’t. But Melania herself? She was someone Ivanka could look up to, could even envy. She was only like a decade older. They were practically peers, and Ivanka could only hope that she herself would remain as superhot when she reached that age. Plus, they were both disappointed in Daddy in their own way. Surely they could commiserate together about that?

_Plus, I’m sure she’s bored, too. Maybe she’s willing to—_

She shut that thought down as well, but only because she was afraid of it.

_Let’s cross that boat when we get to it,_ she thought. _Or whatever that dumb saying is._

***

Her chauffeur dropped her off at Melania’s private mansion, a Gothic castle-inspired piece of work in an undisclosed location. Not even Daddy knew where it was, although Ivanka had to admit that Daddy probably didn’t know exactly where the White House was, either. The realization that Daddy wasn’t perfect had been a long time coming for her, and she still fought internally against the idea. But ever since she’d had to look up Dunning-Kruger on Wikipedia, Ivanka had been fighting a losing battle.

_(Someone had sent her a video clip. Foolishly, she had watched it.)_

Security waved her through the doors, and Ivanka approached the inner sanctum. There was a long, dark hallway, which she knew Melania used to experiment with her White House decorations. Most of them were failures. This time, there were Jesus-on-the-Cross statues every few feet, every one a different race, sporting an erection and an epic O-face. She chuckled at the thought of them actually being displayed in public, and of Daddy’s hostile reaction to them. _But they’re so gay,_ he’d object, but she secretly thought he’d really be bothered by feelings of masculine inadequacy.

“Ivanka, how good to see you.”

Melania met her just outside the doors. Light poured through, and Ivanka had the sudden image of a vampire matriarch lying in wait for her virginal prey.

“How are you, Melania?” she asked, taking her hand.

“As well as can be, under the circumstances.” They walked through the doors, into Melania’s private lounge. The place was decorated with nothing but pictures of Melania from her modeling days, and extremely hot ones at that. Ivanka supposed it made her feel young and sexy, that it reinforced a certain self-image.

_Wow, I’m on a roll today._

“So, what brings you here?”

Ivanka blanched, then blushed. Looking at her now, she could definitely see Melania as a vampiress, though with her gorgeous, perpetually bronzed skin, she was of a kind strengthened by sunlight, not destroyed by it. Behind her, over her shoulder, Ivanka could see one of the topless photos the tabloids had published during the initial campaign. The main difference she noticed was how much bigger Melania’s boobs were now.

“Ivanka?”

“What? Oh. Er…I was just—I was feeling lonely, and then I thought of you, and, um…I thought, maybe we could spend some time together. Just the two of us, with nothing serious going on.”

Melania’s eyes stared at her like a hawk, and Ivanka suddenly knew there was no escaping them. “Nothing serious? Are you sure?”

She got closer to Ivanka, and Ivanka felt her temperature rising, moisture starting to form on her skin, her breaths becoming fast and shallow. _Oh God, how long have I been lying to myself?_

She closed her eyes, overwhelmed by Melania’s presence. She was pulled forward, slightly, and then her lips made contact with Melania’s, and she felt her eager tongue inside her mouth. She’d never been kissed so passionately before, not even when she’d still allowed Jared to have sex with her. And that had ceased as soon as she had gotten pregnant, and even then, she’d only ever let him do her from behind. She could never stand his ugly skeletal face.

_(In the video, some British actors were dressed like Nazis. She almost turned it off then, so experienced was she at Daddy’s people being compared to such.)_

The kiss ended, but their embrace had only just begun. Ivanka felt confused, unsure of herself, full of butterflies again, just like when she was fifteen and at a loss as to why Daddy never loved her the way he loved his girlfriends (they weren’t _that_ much older than her).

“Come on. Let’s go upstairs.”

She let Melania lead her away to a bedroom, and into her dreams.

***

She stared at herself in the bedroom mirror, naked.

_God, I look good,_ she thought. Melania appeared behind her, and she thought she would hyperventilate.

_We should be a power couple. It’d be so goddamn perfect._

Melania laid her down on the bed, a poor little rich girl, and took control. Everything that had been missing in Ivanka’s love life, due to being married to a crooked android slumlord, Melania gave to her. She had never thought she could orgasm from tit-sucking alone, but so it was. When Melania got to work on her clit, she came (!) close to passing out several times. Finally, when the danger of cramping up became too great, Melania relented, expecting her turn.

Ivanka hesitated. “I’m scared!”

“Why?”

“I don’t really know what I’m doing. What if I’m no good?”

“Don’t worry, dear. As long as your heart is in the right place, you’ll do well.”

“Truly?”

“Yes. Besides, you’re a woman, so you’ll automatically do better than your father.”

Ivanka felt her face twitch. Melania had been so good to her, she’d actually forgotten about Daddy for once in her life. Now she couldn’t think about anything else. How long had it been since Daddy had fucked his current wife? How long had it been since he’d filled her pussy with a dripping cream pie? How long—

Suddenly, all of her forbidden thoughts mingled in an unholy fashion in her mind. The thought of leaving her prince for her queen, and the bad thoughts about being Daddy’s little angel, combined, soon glistening on her lips and the tip of her tongue in the form of sweet, sinful cunnilingus.

The revolution was jarring enough that she might have even given up on her country club racism.

***

As Melania laid there napping next to her, Ivanka was lost in thought again. There was something stuck in her head, but she couldn’t recall exactly what it was. However, she did finally remember where the missing memory had originally come from, so she leaned over to grab her phone out of her purse next to the bed. Turning on the screen, she checked Twitter.

It staggered her when she saw it again.

_(“Are we the baddies?”)_

_Yes we are,_ she thought sadly. She clutched at her heart, but could only grope her own giant titties.

_We so, so are._

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see the sketch, just google "Are we the baddies?" and a lot of results should show up. I would post the link here, but I don't know which video is the original, and am too lazy to find out, and I think it is wrong to post anything other than the original. What an odd place to draw the line, but oh well.
> 
> Anyways, it stars David Mitchell and some other guy who's famous enough for me to recognize but not enough for me to bother learning his name. And I only know David Mitchell from Q.I.


End file.
